


oak and hepatica

by threeninefour



Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies), Thor (Movies)
Genre: Angst, Fix-It, Gen, Happy Ending, Post-Avengers: Infinity War Part 1 (Movie)
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-05-15
Updated: 2018-05-15
Packaged: 2019-05-07 10:09:09
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,572
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14668830
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/threeninefour/pseuds/threeninefour
Summary: The brothers live, love, and die.(Or, in which they end up alive.)





	oak and hepatica

**Author's Note:**

> Hope this heals your heart.

   Some nights he dreams, some nights he spends awake.

   When he sleeps, he wakes up sweating and grasping at the white linen sheets as if holding on to the remnants of the brother he lost. He then seeks out the stars, the constellations–Frigga and Odin shine back at him, and maybe his brother too.

   He doesn’t touch the beer, the wine or the whisky. He feels the pain, and knows he is alive. Alcohol, no matter how diluted, will take it away and he is scared of feeling numb. (of forgetting)

   He roams the hallways with the remaining Wakandan mortals nodding their heads when they brush past him, and he is reminded of the past greetings of guards and comrades in the golden palace of the land far, far away. He manages a smile, but moves forward without responding on days he feels the most.

   The remaining Avengers wander around the land, most like him, with muted spirits and tired smiles. The Captain puts on a brave front that only crumbles when there is none around. The Widow only appears when Banner does, and he hugs the doctor on days he misses the most. No one says it but he knows. (There is none around to resist and complain about his stifling and suffocating hugs.)

   He doesn’t hug as well, anymore.

   The man of iron stays in his lab, working and tinkering away, reminding him of Eitri of Nidavellir. He landed that day, with a daughter of Thanos, face sunken and body shuddering. None appeared after them, and the rabbit cursed and shouted and ransacked the ship. Stark muttered about Strange and the futures and a boy named Peter, he fell, knelt, and Lady Pepper pulled him in, stroking his hair lined with flecks and flecks of ashes. Thor glanced at the ship once more, and his heart pulled, before turning his back and walking away.

   He did not know what he was hoping for, but nonetheless, it was foolish of him to hope.

   Some days he thinks of his people. He wonders if there are any alive, thinks about Valkyrie and Korg, and he lets himself hope for the best and prepare for the worst. It is as what he told the rabbit–

   There was nothing more to lose.

   And on days like these, he knows–no matter the beat of his heart, the blood in his veins, the sun on his skin–that he died along with Loki on that wreckage of a ship as he watched the light drain out of the green eyes and the pale skin turn purple and ashen, unable to scream or curse or cry.

* * *

   They were warned of an incoming spacecraft once it entered the atmosphere. The Avengers, including the rabbit and Nebula, crowded around the control room while Shuri typed and maneuvered her technology around. Stark stood beside the girl, projecting holograms of coordinates and letters.

   “They are sending out SOS signals, that we can decipher, but whatever else they are sending out is not of Earth.”

   The girl started, “I will not grant access unless they are not deemed hostile–”

   Thor turned and glanced at the holograms, expecting foreign letters and numbers, but instead the familiar script of the Asgardian language, which he thought to be lost forever, stared back at him.

   “And you have my word that they come in peace. That is the script of Asgard, and I recognize those signals. They belong to the safety pod housing the remainder of Asgard I dispatched before Thanos wreaked havoc.”

   With that, he turned and ran down the hallways and the stairs to whatever remained of his people.

* * *

   They stand quietly, all in gear, and in his hand lay the Stormbreaker. He tightens his grip on the axe, and his heart beats faster with every passing second. He can hear the minimal whirring of Stark’s armour, getting softer and softer as the spacecraft lands on the green grass.

   The back of the spacecraft opens, and the ramp slowly descends. Thor eyes the silhouette of a geared female, and his heart drops when he recognizes her to be Valkyrie. He moves forward, closing the gap from the spacecraft stride by stride.

   “Thor.”

   “Valkyrie.”

   Thor does not voice anything else, but she smiles and pushes his shoulder in a greeting. She holds the same haunted expression, and with that he knows whatever happened on Earth had happened on the spacecraft.

   He looks behind her, and sees the slow trickle of people in Asgardian armour and garb and linen. His eyes water and he has to look at the sky when his people kneel, however small the numbers, and tearfully greet him as King.

   He allows himself for a manly tear, wipes it away with his thumb, and gestures for them to rise. He moves forward and he thinks his heart is healed just a little.

   He starts to count the numbers, and just when he reaches the last Asgardian and his eyes sting again at the thought of how little of his people is left, another steps out of the spaceship, and he stops moving and blinking and breathing.

   The lean figure is cloaked in green and gold, with thin fingers holding onto the golden horned helmet, black boots shuffling across the grass. Thor forces his eyes upwards, seeing the black and purple bruises, contrasting so vividly against the pale and white skin of the neck, and is reminded of how his brother was throttled and strangled and murdered.

   Thor looks into the eyes of the one incoming, and brilliant, twinkling green shines back.

   “Bróðir.”

   Salty tears flow down his face, and this time he does not move to wipe them away. He continues to stand still, until his brother- _alive_ -is right in front of him.

   The raise of an eyebrow prompts him to crush his brother in the tightest hug he has ever given. He nuzzles his face into his brother’s locks and breathes and pulls him closer.

   “Brother-ow. You great oaf, I can’t breathe.” Loki gasps, scolds, and his lungs burn for air and his neck twinges uncomfortably, but he hugs back as tight as he can manage.

   The brothers hug and cry and stand together as long as possible, and in that moment, they are alone and happy and blissful and Thor lives again and Loki loves again.

* * *

   Loki is free to roam the land, with the only forbidden space to be that with the workings and the roots of the magic of Wakanda. He has no desire to visit, and would rather spend his days and nights on the highest tower of the city, gazing at the sky, the sunrise, the sunsets and the stars. When he bangs into an Avenger or one familiar with his past deeds, his neck, no matter how many days have past, would be stared at uncomfortably. He learns to hide it with a glamour, but on certain days he wears it as a shield and it shouts and threatens, forcing people to move five feet away.

   He always hides it around Thor, however. He can’t stand how his brother flinches and hurts at the sight of his neck, and his heart aches along with his brother’s.

   They are frequently within reach of each other, and when Thor thinks Loki is not looking, he will stare and push away the nightmares and comfort himself that his brother is alive and well.

   They slept in separate rooms, but with weeks of waking up in each other’s rooms due to nights of worry and anxiety, Loki wordlessly moves into Thor’s room and the memories of torture and suffocation and pain numbs and disappears when he feels Thor near. Thor sleeps more steadily as well, and whenever he forgets, a glance at the sleeping figure beside him calms him back to sleep.

   There are nights of screaming and choking and thrashing, still, but they are coping as well as they can manage.

* * *

   In the final great battle against Thanos, Loki plays his part well, accepting his birthright and adorning the blue skin he was born with, and he wields the Casket of Ancient Winters, freezing and shattering whatever opponents coming his way. Thor holds onto the mighty power of the Stormbreaker, feels the power thrumming in his blood, and destroys waves and waves of enemies.

   The brothers fight side by side, the mortals are reminded of how they are Gods, while Thor is reminded of the days in which they were young. (He tries not to think of Sif and the Warriors Three.)

* * *

 

   In the night of the won battle, while others are partying and celebrating the return of the ones that crumbled to ashes, Thor joins Loki in his hideout, and together they stare at the constellations and they think of Odin and Frigga and wondered if they made them proud.

* * *

 

   Asgard is relocated to an island off the shore of Norway, and every morning, yellow hues light up the private garden filled with hyacinths, woodbine, lilacs, oak and hepatica. The garden is a shadow of the one cultivated by Frigga for centuries, but they love it all the more.

   When they work on the soil, the stems and the plants, the sun shines through the oak leaves and it lands warmly on their backs, and occasionally, Thor would think about the past promise of his brother, and he would smile and thank the Norns. 

**Author's Note:**

> And that’s a wrap. I loved writing this; I hope you loved reading it. 
> 
> Do leave a review.


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